Someday
by MLaw
Summary: The story takes place while Illya Kuryakin is at the University of Georgia in the Ukraine, where he is completing his education just before he begins his GRU training. This is the next installment in the "Illya-series" Number 10D,and fits into the chronological order of my stories.


Young Illya Kuryakin stood, watching the line of ballerinas as they went through their stretches and exercises in Madame Stolanskaya's ballet class.

The men were on the other side of the room, all five of them including Illya; there were always more females than males.

"Kuryakin!" Madame barked, slamming the end of her stick on the floor to get his attention." What are you staring at you bolvan! Now get to work! releve, plie, releve, plie." Each command was accented by the stick.

"Again!" She shouted, looking at him and only him.. "Now start on the right foot front in 5th position, demi-plié and then relevé onto demi-pointe while pivoting a half turn en dedans. "

Kuryakin did as instructed but still it didn't satisfy her. She glared at him with her icy blue eyes, a look that could stop the heartiest of souls in their tracks.

"Enough for today. You are all dismissed, except you Kuryakin. You stay."

She kept him there another hour, torturing him until he was exhausted. Still he would not give in to his weakness and let her push him, though he was struggling.

"Enough," she finally said." Better but still not good enough. You must work harder if you hope to get near the Bolshoi. At this rate you will do nothing but work the ropes behind the scenes."

"Yes Madame, thank you Madame," he nodded to her. Illya picked up his towel and wiping the perspiration from his face, he wrapped it around his neck. His white cotton tank top was soaked and sticking to his skin, his black leotard the same.

Once out in the corridor, he found someone patiently waiting there for him, Sofiya Pavlovska. She she was one of the ballerinas, and would no doubt be the lead in a dance company someday, a true prima ballerina assoluta.

The petite blonde had changed to her street clothes and was sitting on a bench reading a text book.

"My poor Illyusha, you look exhausted," she smiled up at him.

"I will be fine. Nothing that a little food and rest will not solve."

"Ahhh, is that a hint that you would like me to cook dinner for you? If I know you, your cupboard is bare."

He smiled at her ever so shyly. "You know me too well."

"Well maybe not you, but those pigs with whom you live. You really need a better place Illya."

"You know as well as I that is never going to happen Sofiya. My sponsor is…" he stopped himself. Illya couldn't tell her his real sponsor was a member of GRU and that he himself was being groomed to eventually enter service in military intelligence.

"My sponsor is not a wealthy man."

"Nor does he care for you."

"If you are born to crawl, you cannot fly," he tossed an old Russian idiom at her.

"What?"

"Beggars and orphans cannot be choosers."

"Now that is silly. Here we are all equals and everyone gets a fair chance," Sofiya said.

"Some are more equal than others," Illya shrugged.

"Oh enough of such talk. Go shower and change. You will come home with me...hurry, it is getting late and more snow is falling."

They huddled together saying nothing as they walked arm in arm the snow covered streets of Tbilisi. The winds were beginning to pick up swirling the snow as it drifted around them. It was good tomorrow was their day to themselves. No classes, no Madame, though often the free day was spent studying.

Sofiya's modest flat was far nicer than Illya's, it had a woman's touch and she had a family who saw to that while she attended the University of Georgia, she did so in comfort.

Viktor Karkoff, Illya's sponsor had chosen Kuryakin from the Moskva orphanage and wished to have him follow in his footsteps and join the military intelligence, in other words, become a spy. First things first though, Illya needed to complete his education.

Viktor liked to think of himself as a fatherly figure to the orphans he sponsored, as Illya wasn't the only one, but in that guise Karkoff was severely lacking. There was no correspondence, no visits, no birthday gifts or acknowledgement for that matter. Holidays were immaterial to him, only the progress of his so called boys mattered to him.

For a short while there was a reunion of sorts at University for Illya as his half brother Kiril Andropov also attended school there, and though he was illegitimate and did not have the Kuryakin name, Illya tried to help his brother with his studies.

That proved to be pointless as there was bitterness and resentment on Kiril's part. He hated Illya for having their father's name, and was jealous of his accomplishments. It was out of necessity that Illya distanced himself from his only living relative.*

Illya and Sofiya hurried up the steps and into her apartment building. Inside the hallway was cold and dark, and she fumbled with her key after removing her gloves.

Once inside Illya quickly put some coal in the cast iron stove in the corner of her sitting room. Her's was a luxurious place with a bedroom, kitchen and bath, though the rooms were small they were all hers. She had to share it with no one...unless she wished of course.

They removed their coats and crawling under a blanket on the sofa they did the one thing that would quickly warm them up, a bit of serious necking. One by one articles of clothing were removed.

Finally Sofiya had to push him away. "Illya enough for now. I need to cook."

As his stomach rumbled its reminder that he was hungry, he finally relented.

She quickly dressed and retreated to the kitchen. In no time she had hot borscht with sour cream, pirozhki stuffed with beef, and a large pirog with a savory filling. There were also picked vegetables, mushrooms and deviled eggs.

It was more food than Illya usually saw in a week, and he realized what she'd done. As a ballerina she would be on a strict diet to stay lean and slim. There would be no way she could eat like this; it was obvious she'd gotten the food in for him.

Her parents were ranking members of the party and in no way would have to deal with rationing like the average citizen…which is something Illya couldn't quite understand. The stipend they gave their daughter was more than adequate for her to afford such indulgences and have an apartment all to herself, with money left over.

In the apartment where Illya lived he had a cot in a one bedroom flat that he shared with anywhere from four to six people at a time. Meals were communal, and he never had enough to eat. Though they thought he was merely a student, they had no idea he was in training to become an agent GRU.

While eating, Illya watched Sofiya nibble like a mouse, barely eating at all.

"That is not healthy. If you do not eat you will become weak and how will you become a prima ballerina then?"

"If I get fat I will not become the top dancer."

"I think you can eat just one pirozhki, and perhaps some zakuski, for me?" He fluttered his lashes at her, swaying her with those blue eyes of his.

"All right, just for you."

He popped a pickled mushroom cap into her mouth and cut up a pirozhki for her and fed it to her piece by piece. She sighed. "I forgot how good these are."

"Well seeing as how we will be snowed in tomorrow, there will be plenty of food for both of us to nibble upon, da?"

"But I am hungry for something else now, are you not?" She leaned forward, planting a kiss on his lips, which he enthusiastically returned.

"Mmm, you taste good," he whispered."Like a savory pirog."

"Fresh!" She pretended to hit him on the shoulder.

They moved to her bedroom, and there they made love, cuddling together nice and snug under her soft blankets.

When they awoke in the morning they made love again, got up and bathed, then finally ate a breakfast of hot kasha with bits of fruit. They spent the day, nibbling, napping and simply enjoying each other's company. For once not a care in the world.

The morning after that it was back to University and lessons with Madame. Kuryakin was drilled even more by her until two days later she apparently had it with him.

No one had ever quite heard such language from the petite Madame Stolanskaya when she described his dancing skills, or more so his lack of them. He was kicked out of her classes.

After the dance debacle, he was moved to gymnastics, as it was thought he had a much better aptitude for the sport. Besides, ballet would not exactly serve him well for when he became a spy.

Though after the fact he suspected it was not solely his dancing skills that caused him to be dropped from Madame's classes, but his relationship with Sofiya Pavlovska.

She'd been abruptly sent away to another school and he never saw or heard from her again. Apparently he was considered a mere workhorse, who should not have mixed with a thoroughbred like Sofiya.

If they only knew his true background, with his grandfather having been a Count, and a personal friend of the once Tsar, things might have turned out differently. That however, was information he could never share with anyone, no matter how much it pained him not to do so.

His survival depended upon his silence.

Illya's life was already mapped out for him thanks to Viktor. He would be an agent serving the Kremlin, do their bidding and serving the people of Soviet Union.

Yet was he not one of the people? Why was everything and everyone he ever cared for always taken from him? Kuryakin had no answer to that question.

He decided it best to try not to make friends anymore, still it would be hard to do so. He was on his own...alone. That was apparently his lot in life.

Once leaving school, he would go off to his mandatory military service. He'd been enlisted in the Soviet Navy, and would be assigned to a submarine.

Another page would be turning in the book that was his life, but what lay ahead for him was not hard to figure out.

After his national service his training for GRU would intensify. He'd be given his assignments. Spying on people, betraying and perhaps assassinating some.

Illya sighed as he walked alone in the snow, shrugging his coat as a chill wind blew. He missed Sofiya, laying with her as well as her delicious cooking.

He dismissed those thoughts as his stomach rumbled. A slice of brown bread and tea were his meager breakfast. Dinner would be soup, more bread and tea if he got home before it was all gone.

His stipend was dwindling, but he needed it for food. Food that he had to hide from his flat mates lest they steal it on him. They were hungry too…

The clouds suddenly parted and the snow stopped. The sun burst through for a brief moment, shining down, making young Kuryakin smile.

"Things will get better," he told himself. Somehow he knew that to be true. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but it would happen someday.

 **.**

* ref to several of my AU stories on "The Sins of the Father Affair" and "The Dancing in the Dark Affair"...

Kiril first appears briefly as a child in my story 'Beginnings'


End file.
